


In Search of Hermione

by AzaleaBlue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 6th year- 7th years, AU, Angst, Best Multi-Chapter Fic - Romione Awards 2016, Best Overall Fic -Romione Awards 2016, F/M, Most Intriguing Plot-Romione Awards 2016, Romione Awards Tumblr 2016, Slow Burn, complex characters, plot heavy, romione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzaleaBlue/pseuds/AzaleaBlue
Summary: Pureblood-Slytherin Hermione is rescued by the Order Amidst a capture, a war, and dubious loyalties, she falls in love with the Gryffindor warrior assigned to keep her safe; only, he hates everything about her. Burdened with her past and struggling to rediscover herself and her loyalties, will she be able to win his heart, or will the war tear them apart forever?- Complete Fic available on ffn
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. The Unwanted Task

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline:
> 
> This story begins after the fight at the Department of Mysteries and Sirius's death, just at the beginning of their summer holidays before their Sixth Year.  
> This story is strictly AU. 
> 
> It's rated M not only because of some serious smut but also because I will be experimenting with the darker aspects of human nature in this story.
> 
> Variation from Canon:
> 
> * Hermione belongs to an elite Pureblood family, and after much internal debate by the Sorting hat between Ravenclaw and Slytherin has been sorted into the later. Although she will retain most of her canon characteristics like being brilliant and bookish, she will also display some very aristocratic, Pureblood, snobbish traits true to her house.  
> * Ron's will not exactly be OOC, but his Sixth-year self will be more mature/broody than in the books and the reason will come to light in due course.  
> * For all the Trio's feats that have included Hermione's brilliance from year 1-5, Just assume they managed without Hermione somehow (I've told you it's AU remember?).
> 
> In short, please expect people and situations to be different from as they are in the books.

The door banged shut and not very lightly either as Ron entered the kitchen holding a Quaffle under his arms, his flaming hair windswept, sweat-soaked t-shirt sticking onto his chest.

Molly turned around from the oven to glance at her youngest son and with her brows furrowed in concern, went back to opening a packet of sausages before dropping them onto the sizzling hot pan. The sound of a chair scraping sounded behind her, and she spoke without taking her eyes off the food.

"You are not sitting at the breakfast table like that, Ron."

"Mum- " he grumbled, and for a brief minute, she wondered when his voice had become so deep, how all her little ones had grown up so fast.

"I said, _no,_ " she responded however, he was still her little boy after all. "Go, take a shower, and then you may have breakfast," she instructed, her tone softening ever so slightly this time.

It had been a few weeks since they had lost Sirius. She still shuddered at the thought of the stunt the kids had pulled that night by going to the Ministry all by themselves- couldn't help feel saddened about the fact that they had been forced to grow up so much, so soon.

She heard him grumble inaudibly for a few minutes before he pushed back the chair roughly, and stomped his ever-growing feet on the staircase as he went up. Any other day she would have called him back and lectured him about his behaviour, but she could not bring herself to do it anymore. Their most recent loss was still hanging heavy over all of them, and Ron looked particularly forlorn ever since he had got back from school. She would have immediately called him for a cup of tea and a chat but for Arthur who reminded her that he was growing up. He had assured her that Ron would speak to them if he needed. But she knew better; Ron would never ask for help.

At least, Harry was arriving later that night with Dumbledore, she thought to herself. Hopefully, the boys would be able to help each other better. She was extremely worried about Harry too. The poor kid had lost so much already…

Wiping away a stray tear, Molly busied herself with the eggs and the toasts as the rest of the family slowly trudged down the stairs for the first meal of the day.

...

"An Order meeting at Grimmauld Place?" Ron asked, lifting himself up to rest on his side. Harry untied his shoelaces lazily, not meeting Ron's eyes and took time removing his shoes before shoving them under the bed. He collapsed on the spare bed that had been a permanent fixture in Ron's room since their second year.

"Yeah..." he replied, and Ron could pick up the reluctance in his voice.

"I thought we were avoiding the place after, you know-" Ron paused uncomfortably, "-Kreacher." Harry hadn't mentioned Sirius's death but the despair still hung in the very aura of his person.

"Dumbledore has personally reset and strengthened the wards," Harry provided in a tone way too flat. "He made me question Kreacher to see if he has disclosed anything. Apparently, the elf kept quiet about this one thing at least," he added bitterly. "I have ordered him against disclosing anything that happened or will happen inside that house to anyone outside the Order, " Harry finished in a rush, no longer bothering to hide his displeasure.

Ron eyed his best mate and collapsed back on the bed.

"What now mate?" he asked softly, watching the Chudley Canon players zoom in and out of the frayed poster overhead, and heard Harry shuffle and adjust himself in his bed.

"Dumbledore said he'll give me some lessons this year and... I don't know..." Harry answered back.

"Private lessons with Dumbledore?!" he gasped, "Bloody awesome, mate," he replied eagerly, hoping to cheer his best mate up with his enthusiasm. "Bloody fuckin brilliant."

"Yeah, I guess," replied Harry but without much cheer.

They remained silent for a long time as the candle flickered and eventually died down, Ron having lost his enthusiasm, his mind flicking back into the dark corners he was trying to escape for weeks.

"Ron?" Harry said after a long while; Ron had almost forgotten he wasn't alone.

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

Ron knew that Harry could almost sense him stalling. He fidgeted in his bed which creaked under his weight. "I am not sure what you are talking about mate," he responded eventually, glad that shadows had doused the room in darkness.

Ron instinctively knew that Harry was contemplating whether to confront him or not. After a while, he heard Harry turn on his side as the faint candlelight glinted off his glasses.

"I know something happened before we left for the Ministry that day, Ron," Harry stated, while Ron wondered if it was too late to feign sleep as Harry went on. "I'd have to be blind to not notice how you changed within a few days from the Ron I know to - to _this_ -" he gestured towards Ron bed.

"I thought you were busy with You-Know-Who. I didn't realise you were crushing on me instead," Ron replied, hoping to divert the topic. He gave out a bark of a laugh and noticed a smile that Harry tried to hide but was unsuccessful.

"Crushing on you?" Harry said, mimicking the sound of puking for effect. "Who do you think I am? Lavender Brown?" he added, and Ron felt lighter than he had in days, watching his best mate lighten up.

" _Lavender Brown?!_ Woah! What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, Ron!" Harry grinned easily this time, "She has been eyeing you _all year_! Even _I_ noticed it!"

"What?" he gasped, "I never knew... I guess..." he stammered, his voice much less playful now than before. He paused and sucked in a deep breath. "Hang on! How do you know she has been eyeing me? Does that mean _you_ 've been watching _her_ too? _Apart from Cho, I mean?_ Blimey mate, how many are you eyeing simultaneously?!" Ron laughed aloud, "Well, you might give it a try. At least Lavender won't cry if you snog her," he added chortling.

"Very funny, Ron," replied Harry in a false hurt tone before he too burst out laughing.

The moon set over the horizon as the sound of their laughter broke the silence of the night.

The next evening found the members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered around the table in the dining area of the old Black House.

Waiting for their leader, the group sat together, discussing and updating each other on the Orders plans while Harry stood apart.

"You okay there?" asked Ron softly, and as Harry turned around, he was handed a bottle.

"Firewhiskey disguised as butterbeer," Ron whispered close to his ear, "George got it. Drink up," he added, eying his mother who was sitting at the far end with Tonks.

Harry took a gulp and relished the burn as the fiery liquid numbed his senses for a while. "Thanks," he muttered looking at Ron who raised his bottle of real butterbeer and took a sip.

"Thought you might need it," Ron replied as he wiped his lips on the back of his sleeve.

"Yeah..."

"What is all this about?" asked Ron, taking a look around the room. "I thought they wouldn't allow us in the meetings."

"No clue," he provided after taking another sip; "I guess something major is happening. Dumbledore specifically asked the two of us to be present today."

The two best friends looked at each other when suddenly a familiar knock sounded from the main door.

...

The door to the kitchen opened, and Dumbledore appeared followed by Kingsley and Lupin. Just before the Auror turned and shut the door behind him, Ron just about noticed another figure cross the corridor outside. Before he could so much as turn around and whisper it to Harry, however, Dumbledore's eyes met his over the old wizard's half-moon glasses. To Ron's immense surprise, he found a hint of a smile in that bearded face. For reasons unknown to himself, he kept quiet, waiting for Dumbledore to speak.

A hurried shuffling of chairs and papers ensured, and the wizards and witches all settled down quickly to take their places as Dumbledore took the chair at the head of the table.

Ron found himself squeezed between Harry and Lupin, and just like everybody else, he watched the headmaster curiously. His mother was sitting a few places ahead, and he could make out her frown as she eyed them- two under-aged boys in a group of older and more experienced Order members.

"Kingsley?" gestured Dumbledore, and the Auror nodded once before turning towards the anxious group of onlookers.

"We have called this urgent meeting because something important has happened yesterday- something that the Ministry and the Prophet are doing all in their power to keep from coming out to the public," stated Kingsley in his characteristic deep voice.

The door opened again, and this time, Snape entered and took a vacant seat between Arthur and Kingsley. Ron was left wondering why the Potions master had come in late since it was obvious from what he had seen that Snape had arrived along with Dumbledore minutes earlier. He turned around and watched Harry with his brows furrowed, apparently thinking the same. There had been no sound of the main door this time around.

...

Harry took a few steadying breaths as he watched Snape walk casually into Sirius' house. All the pain and anger he had been struggling to keep within him threatened to spill out, but then, Kingsley began speaking and he pulled himself together to concentrate on the present.

"According to our sources, one of the elite Pureblood couples, the Grangers, who were providing generous funding to the dark side, and their daughter have been murdered in their own Mansion in Southampton," continued the Auror grimly, and sounds of gasps echoed around the room, -under Voldemort's orders," he finished and the muttering increased. Harry turned to face Ron and was surprised to find him frozen for a brief minute before Ron met his eyes and shrugged dismissively. News of death and murder was becoming a commonplace since Voldemort's appearance weeks back. Only, in this case, the dead were from the enemy camp and Harry knew one of the victims.

Hermione Granger was in their year, and quite obviously a Slytherin. She was also the brightest in their class and extremely proud of her superior intellect. Though Harry couldn't recall her taking part in the sneers and jibes Malfoy loved to hurl at them, she was only slightly better. Granger preferred to spend her time with her best friend, Daphne Greengrass. The duo was famed to be the ones who spend the majority of their days in the library. That, however, did nothing to decrease their high-headed, snobbish attitude for belonging to the elite Pureblood society. Granger, Harry recalled, had also drawn great attention by attending the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. It had caused quite a sensation back in their fourth year.

"She-" Harry began but was stopped with a look from Dumbledore while Kingsley continued.

"The story Ministry will release is that the kitchen fire went out of hand and burnt down the place while the family was sleeping. But it's incredibly lame in my opinion," he added, grim as ever. "Theirs was not a small cottage that could burn down by a kitchen fire. The place is enormous. We are positive Fiend Fire was used."

"Why would Voldemort murder one of his own men?" Bill asked the group at large.

"Betrayal perhaps?" offered Tonks, looking around.

"The Dark Lord required some special service from them which the Grangers denied," provided Snape in his deliberate slow drawl.

" _Special service_?" questioned Molly looking repulsed.

"He wanted the daughter to join ranks, although for what purpose is known only to the Dark Lord himself," Snape provided, "Extremely brilliant though she is, she is still under-aged, and hence still under the Trace," added the Potion master.

"Wait you just said, ' _she is'_! _Does that mean?_ " interjected Tonks and all eyes turned towards Dumbledore who smiled.

For reasons he could not clearly fathom, Harry realised, Ron was fidgeting uncomfortably next to him.

"She is alive, yes," answered Dumbledore, and as the murmurs increased, Harry wondered whether Ron was trying to escape somewhere.

"And _that_ is the reason for this meeting. We have been able to rescue Miss Granger before the fire hit her room," Dumbledore went on as the murmured died down and all eyes were fixed on him "As it is, the cursed fire leaves no trace. There won't be any bodies left to recover from the site, so her escape from death is well hidden from Voldemort," he provided. "Nevertheless, she needs to be kept safe, hidden and cared for."

"Is she here?" questioned Arthur.

"Yes, for now..." provided the Headmaster.

"Poor dear..." whispered Molly, and this time, Harry was sure he saw Ron flinch next to him.

"I guess I'll..." began the Weasley matriarch, half rising from her chair, Harry assumed, perhaps to fix a meal, but she was stopped mid-sentence by Dumbledore himself.

"No, Molly, not you."

The older witch looked sceptically at the wizened old man but took her seat anyway.

"You all need to know that she has been put upstairs in the third floor's second bedroom. Severus has put up special wards around it. It is not just to keep her safe, it's also to avoid her risking an escape," Dumbledore's eyes found and rested on him, or perhaps it could be Ron, Harry wasn't too sure. "Although she does know her life is at risk, she might not take kindly to be rescued by the Order. As such, I don't wish her to know more about us, just yet."

The group looked on at their leader, clearly clueless with where he was going with it.

"But she still needs to be taken care of, and that is why I have asked the two of you to join us today," Dumbledore said, this time without an iota of doubt, towards him and Ron, and the two of them stared at each other in disbelief. Ron, Harry noticed, was looking rather unwell.

"Albus, you can't be serious!" Molly intervened, "The boys... I mean..." she began looking scandalised with the suggestion.

Dumbledore smiled, watching her over his half-moon spectacles with a hint of something Harry could only describe as mysterious in his eyes.

"Molly dear, trust me. It's all for the best. This is one responsibility Ron will have to take."

"NO!"

Harry watched Ron scramble up the chair, extracting his long legs from under the table as he pushed the chair back.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sir, I... I can't! I-I won't!" he stammered, obviously uncomfortable as all eyes turned towards him. Harry could distinctly make out his ears turning red to almost match his hair.

"Well, I know you are putting too much trust on Ronald Weasley, Headmaster," sneered Snape, and Harry pulled on Ron's arms to pull him back into the chair. His blood was shooting to his head as Snape met his eyes and smirked. Although he desperately wanted to punch that sneer off that oily face, he knew it wouldn't be prudent to lose his temper in front of everyone and drop this golden chance of getting more involved in the Order's business.

"I am putting my trust on him because I know he is the best man for this job, Severus," replied the old man calmly. Harry loved how Snape's sneer morphed into a frown.

"Now, if you boys will follow me please?" Dumbledore called, and pushing back his chair, left the table and opened the door. " Just the boys," he added as Molly Weasley glanced helplessly at her husband.

Keeping his eyes trained on his mentor's back, Harry followed Dumbledore up the stairs, while Ron followed behind him, grumbling under his breath and dragging his feet. Once they reached the third floor, Dumbledore took them inside a smaller room and took his place in a rickety, old armchair, while the two of them sat down on the facing couch which had quite a few springs peeking out of it.

"I understand you are not very happy with this arrangement," the Headmaster stated calmly to Ron. "May I know the reason?" he asked.

Ron fumbled for a bit, but then perhaps the daunting prospect of the task he was assigned made him overcome any embarrassment he felt for his earlier behaviour.

"Because she-she is from Slytherin and...I- I don't wish to do it," he responded firmly.

"The school houses mean nothing outside Hogwarts, Ron."

"But I don't-"

"You don't wish to be part of the Order then?"

"Of course, I do! " Ron replied incredulously and looked between him and their teacher.

"Then?" asked Dumbledore softly.

"I... "

"During times like these, we are often forced to do things we don't particularly like," Dumbledore continued as if Ron hadn't just refuted his order, "Doesn't mean the tasks are any less important, or that we are incapable of them. I guess I do owe you both an explanation about the importance of this."

Harry and Ron looked on while Dumbledore continued patiently, his arms placed on the armrest casually.

"You both know, Miss Granger is an extremely brilliant witch. And it's her intellect that is both her asset and enemy now. If I could change fate, I would have wished for her to be on our side. But born in the family she was, there wasn't much we could do about her being a part of the wrong side. Voldemort knows of her abilities and is sure she will be a valuable asset in the upcoming war. He realised he could use her skills to his benefit. You will get to know what he wished of her in due time." Harry and Ron looked at each other, shell-shocked, but Dumbledore wasn't done yet. "However, for whatever reasons they must have had, her parents refused to let her into his ranks, and I will be eternally grateful to them for it. They both paid with their lives for that bit of disobedience, though," Dumbledore nodded sadly.

"Now she is alone, orphaned and out of her comfort zone. She needs to realise that she still has people who can care for her if given a chance," Dumbledore looked at Ron and Ron looked positively ill. "The dark side is not where she belongs, " Dumbledore went on, eyes fixed on Ron, who looked very uncomfortable under the piercing gaze. "If we can change her heart and bring her to our side it will be a huge blow for Voldemort. But that won't be easy considering the values she has imbibed and will require immense work. I believe it will be easy for her to get accustomed if someone of her own age can help her there. Can I trust you with this responsibility, Ron?"

Ron looked like he was expecting Dumbledore to let him go. He grunted almost miserably. "Why not Mum or Tonks?" he asked like a stubborn child.

"Because I don't wish to compromise on her education. Once school starts, she will need to finish her education if she has to be prepared for this war. She will need someone to get her lessons and assignments. Although the teachers will all know about her taking the classes, she won't be able to attend them herself as she is dead to the world. For her safety, it's absolutely important, we keep it that way."

"How will she attend school without anyone knowing?" asked Harry before he could stop himself.

"Well, we have created a separate chamber attached to your dormitory which only the two of you will be able to access."

Ron looked like he would faint.

"Why can't Harry do it?! You said it will be accessible to both of us," he pleaded, perhaps knowing completely well that Dumbledore wouldn't back down and he would have to do it anyway.

"Because Harry will be busy helping me with something else," Dumbledore replied cryptically, and the boys glanced at each other again.

"And for this task, he is only your backup during unavoidable situations. Even then, he will pretend to be you when meeting her. Technically, _you_ are the only person she will see until we are sure of her allegiance."

Harry, who was watching his best mate, wondered if Ron was beginning to get a headache, he sure looked ill. But he seemed to have accepted his fate, albeit grudgingly.

Dumbledore looked at Ron for a long time and then raised himself up.

"Your mission starts now,"

"-WHAT?!" Ron gasped, but Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't. "You and Harry will stay here for the rest of the summer. The wards of her room will allow you in, and no one else. I think I'll ask Molly to get the poor girl something to eat now, and you can take it to her. She is just in the other room," he gestured. With a swipe of his purple robes, Dumbledore left the room to go downstairs.

Ron continued to pace furiously in the small room for some time while Harry sat still, quite stunned with the events of the night.

"Fuck it all!" groaned Ron suddenly, kicking the foot of the armchair the Headmaster had occupied and swore aloud in pain. Outside, the old man's footsteps had almost died down.


	2. Struggling Hard

Fiery dragons swooped down from great heights while the serpents that were coiled around her ankles rose steadily upwards. She struggled to set herself free as tears leaked out until her own screams woke her up.

The room was much too dark and way too small to be hers.

Struggling to steady her breath, she blinked rapidly to clear her vision of the horrifying images that seemed to linger just below her eyelids. Locks of her curly mane stuck to her forehead and ran down her back in messy curls, while sweat dripped down her neck, soaking the peach-pink satin nightgown at the lace on her chest.

Once her vision cleared partially, adjusting to the feeble lighting of the room, she could make out the covers that were tangled around her feet. She heaved a sigh of relief but then panic took hold of her again.

The bed was definitely not her's and neither was this room a part of their Mansion.

Hermione fumbled around for her wand, first on the bed, and then, extricating herself from the grip of the covers, on the small bedside table. Fear intensified as the reliable piece of wood was nowhere to be found. She fumbled down, slipping on her slippers that were placed next to the bed. In the dim light of the few candles in the candle brackets high up in the wall, began frantically searching around the room.

Never in her life had she been to someplace that was remotely similar. A large, old wardrobe stood close to the only and bolted shut window. The long, dark drapes touched the floor. With trembling hands, she pulled apart the handles, and the cupboard opened with a loud, creepy, creaking noise. The inner cavity was huge but woefully empty and smelt of neglect and age. She felt around the racks, scrunching up her nose disdainfully at the fine layer of dust and closing it back, groped over the small low table beside it. Still, nothing. The only other piece of furniture in the room, a wooden desk, sat next to the opposite wall, but just like the wardrobe, the desk was too was old and empty.

Horribly depressed and panic rising at her vulnerable state, she went back to the bed and slumped down.

_Where was she? Why couldn't she remember anything all?_

She looked around again and closed her eyes shut, willing herself to remember _something_ that would explain this sudden change of location. However, the only thing she could remember was having dinner with her parents at her home.

...

Father had looked unnaturally grave and Mother was visibly distressed, hardly touching the fabulous meal the house-elves had provided. Hermione had watched her parents curiously. She wanted nothing more than to voice her concerns but refrained. Her upbringing did not allow for young girls like herself to question elders without being granted permission first. So, she quelled her curiosity and went back to the food, hoping one of them would say something as she noticed her parents exchange troubled glances at each other.

"Hermione,"

Her father's voice made her lift her eyes up, and she gently placed her knife and fork down and wiped her mouth with the napkin before quickly turning at him.

"Yes, Father?" she asked politely.

She could almost sense the discomfort on his features, the internal debate to decide how much to confide in his daughter.

"Until you leave for school on the first of September, I want you to keep to your wing."

She hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. She had been looking forward to the tea party at Daphne's the coming week, and also the trip to France her mother had promised. _What had she done to deserve a lockdown?_

"Yes, Father," she had replied politely instead with downcast eyes, not caring to pick up her spoon and finish her pudding.

"Under no circumstances are you allowed to leave the Mansion," he instructed as her heart sank further. " Henry and William will be on guard outside at all times. I don't even want you wandering off to the main library at night time. Transfer all the books you need to your personal library today itself. Is that clear?" he asked in a voice that did not leave any scope for questions or arguments anyway.

"Yes, Father," she answered in a quieter voice, suddenly finding it very difficult to remain seated and behave like all was well. But she neither questioned nor argued with her parents; she just wasn't brought up that way.

"Alright, finish your meal and off you go."

She left after bowing them goodnight without looking at their faces. It was the only bit of disobedience she allowed herself.

The two men who usually guarded her father followed her to the library and back. She knew it was futile to argue with them; her father's word was their command. The silent and dark sentinels stood stopped at the entrance to her Wing and not a moment after she crossed the threshold, they closed huge doors and shut them up with magic.

Within the confines of the walls, feeling like a prisoner in her own home and for reasons she couldn't even comprehend, Hermione allowed her polite, indifferent mask to fall and grumbled softly under her breath. She dropped off the books on the large ornate table and walked briskly away to her bedroom.

Anne, her personal maid, was waiting as usual for their nighttime routine. Hermione was helped out of her elaborate robes into the night-gown, and the young lady stood behind and brushed her long brown tresses till they were all shiny and perfectly curled. Smiling with satisfaction, the young witch begged for her leave even as Hermione remained seated at her dresser, gloomy and silent. Finally, letting out a deep sigh, she left for the next room that housed her enormous collection of books.

And perhaps that was where she had fallen asleep till she opened her eyes in this dark, creepy place a while ago.

Back in the present, she couldn't help feeling petrified. Something was very wrong, and this change of events proved her father's concern true. She felt guilty for her behaviour now that she thought about it, but the main question here was- _where on earth was she anyway?_

_Had she been captured?!_

She gulped down hard at the thought. Maybe she _was_ kidnapped. Only that could explain her missing wand and her father's fears. She looked around the room and her brows furrowed; this was nothing like the dungeon at their Mansion. The place was not much to her standards, but it looked homely at the very least. A small ray of hope rose materialised. _Perhaps her father had changed his plans and sent her away for her safety?_ But then, there should have been someone around, and honestly, this place wasn't exactly up to standards to belong to the Granger Family. Additionally, it didn't explain her missing wand.

Gathering her wits and steeling her jittery nerves, she looked around trying to find answers. There were a couple of doors, one to the left of the bed and another straight ahead. She tried the second one first. It was locked, not that she expected otherwise but her heart fell nonetheless.

Now she was sure whoever had brought her here had done so against her Father's wishes. He might restrict her to her Wing, but he wouldn't lock her inside a tiny room without any of her belongings.

She tried the other door and it opened with a soft click. The joy she felt at the accomplishment died in a moment. It was only a washroom. A claw-footed black bathtub sat in the centre. There were a black marble sink and similar coloured toilet. It was small but thankfully spotlessly clean. She closed the door and made her way back to bed.

She reckoned that her kidnapper would at least come down to give her meals. The room they had kept her in suggested that they weren't planning to starve her to death anyway. If only she could get her wand back, she could risk an escape. She was still under-aged and any magic from her would trigger an alert to the Ministry. That, she decided would be good enough to act as a signal to her father about her location.

Hermione pulled herself on the bed and resting her back on the headrest, pulled her knees close to her body for warmth. Then she waited for a sound, a signal, something, _anything_...

...

By the time Harry and Ron reached the kitchen again the smell of Mrs Weasley's famous chicken soup was wafting up making Harry go hungry again. Most of the members had left except for Kingsley and Tonks who sat discussing something at the table. Kreacher too had disappeared somewhere.

Ron pulled a chair roughly and sat down, look of annoyance fixed firmly on his face. Harry grabbed the adjoining chair, passing a weak smile at Tonks and Kingsley.

"Come on Ron, cheer up. A task for the Order at sixteen, that's impressive!" cheered Tonks, but Ron's frown deepened further.

"Some task," he grumbled. "Babysitting a snobbish, irritating Slytherin with pro-Pureblood supremacy ideas, fantastic!" he added sarcastically.

"Shouldering the responsibility to keep someone safe in times like these is a big thing, Ron. It's neither a task for the weak-hearted nor a trivial job as you think it is. You should be proud Dumbledore trusted you with it," commented Kingsley seriously, and although Ron still huffed in response, Harry noticed his ears redden at the compliment.

Mrs Weasley came in with a tray laden with food at that precise moment, her face clearly indicating that she neither agreed with the Auror's words nor thought highly of this arrangement. Harry noticed that the tray had enough food to feed at least three hungry teen-aged boys- slices of bacon and eggs, soup, bread and cheese, and a large portion of the beef roast they had had for dinner. He assumed she had gotten some from the Burrow while they were upstairs. Grimmauld Place was no longer stocked since...Sirius' death. The thought threatened to open his bottled-up frustrations and he looked at the others to distract himself.

Kingsley had pulled out a couple of phials from his robes and placed them on the tray beside the food.

"Calming Drought and a Dreamless Sleeping Potion," he said, showing Ron the labels. "Better to keep some at hand. She might need it."

Ron looked least interested.

"She'll need some basic supplies, won't she?" inquired Tonks looking between Molly and Kingsley.

"I'll get some Ginny's things for the time being, and then maybe we can buy something from Diagon Alley," suggested Molly thoughtfully. She glanced at the door leading out to the staircase and Harry could almost see her itching to go upstairs and see Granger for herself.

"The school will provide a grant for her, her vault will be all sealed now with the news of their death," Kingsley informed them, and both the witches nodded solemnly.

"Let me see, I might get a couple of my stuff too and we could transfigure it to fit her," piped up Tonks, and pushed herself off the chair, knocking off the one next to hers. She set it up consciously and waving night left.

"I suppose we should take the tray upstairs," suggested Molly finally, and cast a warming spell on the food again.

"Just a minute, Molly," said the Auror and turned towards Ron. "There are a few things you ought to know before you see her," he informed Ron who looked a little green around the gills, his expression somewhere between helplessness and submission to a particularly-unpleasant fate.

Kingsley, however, spoke in a firm business tone, as if he was briefing one of his junior recruits at work.

"We found her in her library at their Mansion. She was asleep and was kept in that state when we got her here. Powerful wards have been set over this house and also the room above. However, she doesn't know where she is or how she got here. Doesn't even know about her parents' death yet," he paused, looking unsure for the first time that night. "Although, I personally think it would have been prudent for Dumbledore to have told her that, for some strange reason known solely to him, he insists Ron should break the news to her."

Harry turned instantly at Ron to find him staring back at the Auror in shock, an expression very similar but with quite a mix of rage visible in his mother's face.

"I...T-That is preposterous!" managed Molly. Harry was sure she was struggling to control her rage. " _How on earth does Albus expect Ron or Harry to handle a situation like this?!" she screeched._ "Moreover, how does he expect that poor girl to cope with all this change by keeping her locked in like a prisoner?" she added indignantly, shaking with rage. She picked up the tray. "I don't care what he says, I am going upstairs. The poor child needs a mother."

Harry turned at Ron and was sure he saw his best mate give out a relaxed sigh at his mum's words, the corner of his lips curling ever so slightly into a grin. But Kingsley stood up too. With a flash, the door leading out of the kitchen closed shut locking Molly in, the food-laden tray still in her hands.

"Molly, we trust Dumbledore and do what he says. You know the deal," he said with ultimate finality, and although Harry had hoped the fiery witch would challenge the Auror, she stood and contemplated for a while, and then, with the signs of a lost soldier, put the tray back down on the table. But the fire was back in her eyes immediately as she turned at her youngest son, and Harry couldn't help but flinch a little.

"Ron Weasley, you will be at your best behaviour during your task," she stated, her eyes almost slits, one arm at her waist and another pointing a finger at him. "She is alone and among strangers. _You will keep that in mind at all times._ And just because she is all locked up alone, don't you dare get any fancy ideas."

Harry could feel steam coming out of his ears and averted his eyes, concentrating hard on a scratch on the wood instead. He was sure Ron's ears and even face would be flaming red at his mother's implication.

"MUM!" snapped back Ron, but his voice wasn't as embarrassed as Harry had imagined it would be. Looking up, he noticed his best mate looked strangely angry.

"I swear, Mum, I'll rather marry a Blast-Ended-Skewt than get 'fancy' ideas about _her,_ " he replied in a huff and turned away, his jaws clenched. "How much does she need to know?" he asked Kingsley, a look of determination and- something else Harry couldn't really pinpoint- in his eyes.

"She needs to know about her parents and who did it," Kinsley replied, watching him closely. "And, she needs to know she is safe, that we mean her no harm by keeping her locked up. It's for her own good. Apart from that, you can tell her she is with the Order and in one of our safe houses. I guess that should be enough for now," he stated. "And, I guess, you can tell her she will get to finish her schooling. No need to mention the details yet."

Ron nodded his head slightly and turned at his mother again.

"I'm not carrying that like a bloody elf" he stated while picking himself off his chair and in a tone that suggested that he wanted to get over with the task as soon as he could.

Molly glared at her son for a while but then asked Harry to call Kreacher to take the tray upstairs till the third landing. Harry assumed she suspected that Ron might 'accidentally' drop the food.

"Come with me to the Burrow and pick up your pyjamas and sleeping bags for the night," she told him lovingly before she turned at Ron, deep worry lines etched on her face as Ron banged the door shut loudly behind him.

With a small goodbye to Kingsley who promised to stay till Harry returned, the duo left with the green flames.

…..


	3. The Custodian

Ron knocked a couple of times with his knuckles while balancing the food-laden tray precariously in his other hand, all the while cursing his horrid luck under his breath. There was no sound from inside, and despite himself, he was slightly curious. Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the worst, he touched the doorknob. As soon as the silver came in contact with his fingers, it glowed a bright blue before turning back to its normal, boring self and the door opened with the softest click.

Hermione, he noticed, had dozed off while sitting with her back against the headboard, her head resting heavily on her knees which were pulled close to her body. She didn't wake up at the sound of the door opening, neither heard him enter for that matter and surely never saw the bitter glance he gave at her hunched figure.

The light inside the room being dimmer than the rest of the house, Ron squinted till his eyes adjusted to the partial darkness till he could make out the details of the room. He made his way towards the low, wooden stool that sat next to the wardrobe as noiselessly as he could manage.

_As long as he could just drop the bloody tray and leave before she woke up..._

However, as his horrid luck would have it, the potion vials clinked together as he began to lower the tray and in his attempt to save them, he almost spilled soup over the bacon. Trying his best to regain control of all the items on the tray, and muttering furiously under his breath, he placed it carefully down. Glad that he had accomplished the task without making his presence known he had only turned around when disaster struck. The slightest nudge of his elbow caused the fork and knife to clattered down on the floor, resounding ominously in the quiet of the room.

"Fuck! Fuck! Bloody hell!" he muttered furiously, hurriedly picking up the articles and placing them back, eager to finish the job and dash off. But the damage was already done.

For a brief moment, the brown eyes met the blue and he could just about make out her utter shock and fear. It gave him a weird sort of satisfaction as her face lost all colour at his sight. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car and he allowed himself a satisfied smirk. He noticed her look between him and take in her surrounding and he instinctively knew she was looking for an escape. He continued to watch her as her eyes glanced between him and the door that was partially open.

_Enough for an escape, Granger? Perhaps not,_ he thought quietly to himself. He could see her intent in her eyes, and despite himself, a small cruel smile formed on his lips. _Well, he could let her try, couldn't he?_

She scrambled out of the bed, struggling a little with her long gown before rushing towards the door barefoot. _Surely, a small part of that brilliant brain that was not concentrating on her escape would have noticed that he had not so much as lifted a finger to stop her?_

She surely hadn't. The door shut with a bang when she was barely inches away; the force of it knocking her backwards. Stumbling to maintain her balance and struggling to avoid tripping on the hem of her long dress at the same time, she let out a frustrated groan while Ron let out a snicker.

Granger turned around angrily, holding the edges of her long dress tightly between her fists, shaking a little. Ron chose to watch her casually, arms folded casually at his chest, expression as blank as he could manage.

"W-What did you do?" she asked as she noticed his careless stance, backing away a little. He could see her panic rising as she looked around at their predicament but he did not bother to answer. He had guessed the wards wouldn't allow her to leave the room, for her own fucking safety. "Why...why have you brought me here? What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling as she struggled to put on a false show of bravado.

"I haven't brought you here. And believe me, I want nothing to do with you," he replied, unable to stop the hatred he felt from creeping into his voice.

She continued to watch him intently, disbelief evident on her features; her arms wrapped protectively around her chest, shoulders straight but fearful at the same time.

Any other girl and he would have pitied her for her situation. _Any_ other girl and he would have felt horrible for being such a prat. _But she wasn't just anyone, was she?_ No, she was the one and only, Hermione Granger and there were very few people Ron hated more than he hated her.

..

The food smelled delicious and Hermione realised with a pang that she was literally starving. It had definitely been a very long time since she had had dinner with her parents.

_Her_ _parents_ …

The thought almost choked her. She was now dead sure that she was brought here against her father's wishes. She could feel the tears of frustration and fear pricking her eyes, and she bit her lip to concentrated on her breathing. She couldn't show her vulnerability to Weasley. However, she also realised that if _he_ was here, her situation was far worse than she had assessed it to be. What could he be planning? How had he breached the protective wards of the Manor? She let out a strangled whimper. She'd rather be anywhere else at this point. Even being locked inside a dungeon and fed stale bread was better than her current predicament.

_Anything but Ronald Weasley_.

"Where am I?" she asked in a quieter voice.

"In a safe house, with the Order of the Phoenix." There was definitely a tone of pride in that statement but her heart stopped.

"O-Order of the P-Phoenix?" she stuttered fearfully.

"Yes."

She threw all display of control away and ran to the door, pulling the knob and banging on the wood with her fists.

"LET ME GO! W-WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? LET ME OUT OF HERE!" she yelled banging with all her might.

"STOP IT!" he barked furiously, and she stopped abruptly and turned around to find annoyance and extreme hatred etched in those otherwise handsome features. At least he had not moved towards her. She looked down searching.

_Think, Hermione!_ she told herself furiously. _Maybe he had a wand she could nick…_ She took a look at his tall form; overpowering him physically would be impossible but with a wand, she could handle him easily.

She glanced at the boy she loathed beyond all and found what she was looking for. The wood was poking out of his pocket. He was still watching her, however, and Hermione lowered her eyes and went back and sat at the edge of the bed. The gears in her brain were churning rapidly. She _had_ to get him talking and would need to divert his attention till she could risk a chance.

"Why am I here?" she asked softly and he watched her for a while before he answered.

"To keep you safe," he replied bitterly. She did not believe him in the least.

"Eat up," he huffed after a while as he possibly noticed her watching the food. She licked her dry lips. In all honestly, she _was_ starving. But she was in the enemy's den, wasn't she? He roughly pulled out the chair next to the study table and placed it next to the stool.

"Eat," he repeated.

She came forward consciously and took the offered seat. _At least, she was closer to him now and closer to the wand._ She glanced down, noticing the enormous amount of food on the tray and also the two vials.

"H-How do I know it's not poisoned?"

He laughed aloud derisively.

"Don't you think we have had enough chances to kill you if we wanted to? Why bother getting you here in a proper room, getting the food prepared and then try poisoning you with it?"

....

She glared at him but Ron knew she was evaluating his answer. Finally, she picked up the soup bowl, and with her back straight against the chair, picked up the spoon. Just before the spoon touched her lips, though, she eyed him once and took a tentative sip. He knew she loved it because of her tongue darted out to smack her lips. Sucking in a sharp breath, he looked away abruptly.

Very soft clinking sounds continued as she ate. He turned once to see her cutting and picking small morsels of food before putting them daintily in her mouth. She sat a little hunched with the odd height of the chair and the food tray making it difficult for her to maintain her stiff posture.

_Arrogant, stiff, bloody snobbish posture._

A while later, there was a small scraping noise like a chair being pushed away, and he finally turned to face her. She had not even managed to finish one-third of what his Mum had prepared. Muttering thanks she continued to look at him intently.

....

Hermione felt much better with the food in her system. Her head cleared significantly. She inconspicuously glanced at his pocket again from where the wand was peeking out, her sole chance of escape. She saw that he was looking at the tray but not seeing it perhaps and she jumped into action the moment he looked away for a second. Without warning, she lurched ahead aiming for his pocket, feeling overjoyed as fingers of her right hand touched the wood, but the very next moment, he had grasped her wrist in his hand so painfully that she yelped aloud and let the wand go. He didn't.

Weasley yanked her hand away from his wand and turned her arm around so that the back of her palm was now pressed behind against her lower back. His fingers were still curled painfully around her wrist bringing their bodies close while he looked down at her from his height. There was nothing but undisguised loathing in his features.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It." he said so menacingly that she visibly trembled, angry tears pricked her eyes. Unwilling to give up, she struggled against his grip, trying uselessly to free herself.

"Leave me!" she raged looking at him with fire in her eyes. _How dare he touch her!_

"Father will rip your arms for this!" she hissed. It didn't seem like he had heard. Those cool blue eyes continued to look at her without bothering to hide the hatred he felt for her as she struggled against his grip.

"LET ME GO, WEASLEY! You are hurting me!" she cried angrily at last.

For a moment he looked surprised as if seeing her and their position for the first time and his grip slackened. She grasped the chance to dash away from him.

"Fuck!" he muttered under his breath, breathing deeply and running his fingers through his hair.

....

Ron eyed her carefully. She was standing as far away from him as the room would allow, massaging her bruised wrist with the other hand.

"I'm sorry," he said uncomfortably. She glared at him but did not bother to reply. He inhaled deeply, cursing his horrid luck and pulled out the chair for himself. "Sit," he told her indicating the bed.

"What makes you think I'll do as you order me to?" she scoffed back instead.

The fire returned to his eyes. "Look, Granger, you are going to be here for a long time. And I am the only person you'll get to see in all this while. So you might as well learn to cooperate." She remained standing (and glaring as well) but he knew he had got her attention this time.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

He took a deep breath again. His mother was right. He had no clue how he was supposed to handle this. He could almost hear her voice loud in his ears.

' _She is alone and orphaned and in a strange place, nothing that can be called pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. You will keep that in mind at all times.'_

"Believe me you should sit down for this," he said a little more softly this time and was surprised when she actually did as asked, positioning herself against the headrest, keeping the farthest distance from him. He struggled to think of a good way to begin but could barely think of any. So he decided to get to the point straight off.

"Some of the Order members rescued you from the fire at your mansion last night," he began, noticing the colour and anger drain out from her face to be replaced by terror.

"F-Fire?"

"Yeah. Fiend Fire."

"F-Fiend F-Fire?" she asked as fresh tears pooled in her big brown eyes that reflected shock and disbelief in equal measure.

"Yeah."

"Mother? F-Father?" she asked, and Ron had a feeling that she knew the answer already. He couldn't help feeling bad for her, suddenly realising how much she had lost. He had no answer so he remained silent and averted his eyes, allowing the silence to be the answer enough.

"Well, I d-don't believe you!" she declared after a while, and Ron looked up to see a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks as she bit her trembling lips, wiping off the moisture from her cheeks as she sniffed. "Why _should_ I believe you?" she asked again.

"Because that is the truth, perhaps?"

"You are lying!"

"Suit yourself," he muttered annoyed and then cursed himself. "Look, Granger, I know this is tough for you," he managed, itching to get this over with and leave the room. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I could help it either."

"Then why _are_ you here?" she asked like she couldn't wait to see him gone.

"Because I have been assigned to this task, I've got to keep you safe," he answered bitterly as she scoffed.

" _You_? Keep me safe? And who has given you this job, may I ask? Dumbledore perhaps?" she sneered. "Father is right, that man has gone senile."

The fury he was barely holding back burst through him again.

"If your father was so clever, he should have known better and chosen better friends, Granger! And you should thank this very same 'senile' man for saving your miserable life from your father's dear old Master," he spat, noticing with satisfaction as she watched him with horror.

"The D-Dark Lord killed them?"

"Well he does fancy killing, doesn't he?"

"Why would he do that? Father always…" she stopped mid-sentence looking horrified at having almost acknowledged her family links with the Dark Lord. Perhaps this was not something that was to be spoken out aloud.

"' _Always_ ' what? Sang praises of him? Aren't you guys really thick to assume that You-know-who cares for you lot like a mother wolf watching her cubs?" he asked as the repulsion he felt for her crept back in. In a way, she deserved what she got.

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU! I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU'VE SAID!"

"As I said, suit yourself." 

Ron shoved back the chair and walked over to pick up the tray, never taking his eyes off her as she sat on the bed in disbelief. _Well, at least he could say he tried._ Picking up the two vials he placed them on the bedside table, and with a last look at her, walked out of the door that opened at his touch. The door closed as soon as Ron had stepped out of the boundary of the room.

He dropped the tray in Kreacher's arms at the third landing and rushed down the steps. He had to go as far from her as he possibly could.


	4. The Night Watch

Harry had asked Kreacher to clean up the biggest bedroom on the second floor.

The beds were yet to get sorted and hence the boys had decided to sleep in the sleeping bags Harry had brought down from the Burrow. As they changed into their pyjamas, Harry noticed that Ron had gone even more silent than before, having not spoken a word since he had come down. Kingsley had left by then and Tonks had appeared with a bag of clothes which Ron had flat out refused to take upstairs until next morning.

"How did it go?" Harry asked carefully once they both had tucked themselves in.

"Horrid. Just as expected," replied the redhead.

Harry really hoped Ron would continue but when the latter didn't elaborate further, he was forced to question him directly. "Did you tell her about her parents?"

"Yeah. She thinks I'm lying," he replied emotionlessly.

"And what about the Order keeping her here?" Harry probed.

"I told her that she was rescued by our side but seems like she would have been happier to be with her own lot."

It was hard to miss the deep loathing Ron carried for the girl and Harry wracked his brains to think of a reason good enough. Hermione Granger was in Slytherin so they had frequent classes together since their first year. She was the one who was the top of their class and Harry couldn't deny that her superiority complex and know-it-all attitude did annoy him too. But at least she was better than Malfoy and his cronies, and also Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bulstrode for that matter. Apart from that, their interaction with Granger had been absolutely minimal. Sure they saw her almost every single time they landed in the library for notes, and she was a Prefect too so that could mean Ron would have met her during the Prefect meetings.

And then it clicked!

"Did something happen between the two of you when you were doing your patrols together all of last year?" he asked quickly, eager to find out if he had guessed it right.

Ron was silent for such a long time that Harry concluded that either his best mate had dozed off or Harry had guessed it right. Surprisingly, Ron had not mentioned her before even in passing. Fifth-year had been pretty intense with the DA meetings and all, hiding away the whole episode from Umbridge wasn't easy either. To top it all, Harry, practically flicking in and out of Voldemort's thoughts, hadn't really noticed much. And now it seemed like Ron wasn't keen on sharing it either.

"Ron?" he asked again just to check if his best mate was awake, although the absence of his mild snoring should have been an indication enough.

"I was wondering why Dumbledore gave _me_ this task?" Ron asked finally. "Think about it, Harry. Why not you? Okay, he said that you'll be busy with something else, but then, why not someone from the Order, Tonks perhaps? Heck, even Fred and George would have been a better choice! Why _me_?"

"C'mon, mate, you are being much too hard on yourself," Harry replied, turning around to face Ron better. "Dumbledore must have had his reasons. There are hardly things that man doesn't know," he added. 

"Exactly, he must have his reasons. And that is what makes me all the more confused," murmured Ron almost to himself.

"So, care to tell me what's got you all riled up about her?" he asked again.

"Well, let's just say, I've seen enough of her to know that I'd have done much better without having to see her day in and day out. And, hell be damned, that's what I have got to do for Merlin knows how long," he responded grumpily, still skirting over the true reasons.

Ron rolled over to face the other side and Harry knew there was no chance he was getting any truth out of him, at least not tonight. It made him all the more curious. He couldn't help wonder if Dumbledore knew what Ron was holding back. How likely was it that Ron had been allotted this duty for the exact reason he wanted to avoid Hermione Granger in the first place? He yawned aloud in the silent room.

"Night, Harry," came Ron's voice muffled from within the covers.

"Night, Ron," he replied, still feeling a tad bit annoyed with his best mate.

...

Loud screaming woke them up in the dead of the night.

It took Ron a while to figure out where he was, and then as he saw Harry scrambling to get out of the sleeping bag next to him, it all fell into place. The boys caught each other's eyes exactly at the same time.

"Granger!" they exclaimed together and grasping their wands, jolted up the stairs as the screaming continued. Ron crossed the barrier in a rush and the door gave away easily at his touch.

The room was just as dimly lit as before, with his heart beating madly in his chest, he looked carefully at the bed. There she was, thrashing around with her eyes shut tight. He looked around frantically for any intruder and even checked the washroom just to be sure. But just as expected, there was no one so he quickly made his way to the sleeping girl.

Bending over her curled form he called out loudly.

"GRANGER!"

She continued to scream and fling her arms around as if throwing off invisible assailants.

"GRANGER! WAKE UP!" he called louder. When she continued to writhe still, he sat down in the small space next to her. Dropping his wand to the side, he placed his arms on her shoulders and gave her a shake.

"WAKE UP!" he called.

She opened her eyes for a split-second, and even in the dim light, he could see her eyes fill with terror as she began to struggle harder. Assuming she was still in some kind of a sleep-induced trance, Ron shook her harder and in return, she cried out aloud scratching and clawing at his face and hands, struggling to get away from him.

"LEAVE ME! NO! PLEASE!" she yelled while sobbing continuously.

"WAKE UP, GRANGER! YOU ARE DREAMING! IT'S ONLY JUST A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!" he yelled, hoping he wasn't scaring her further, all the while trying to save himself from her attacks but keeping his hold on her shoulders none the less.

Finally, she seemed to wake up. Dropping her hands to her sides she struggled to steady her breathing. "W-What h-happened?" she managed at last.

"You were having a nightmare," he provided, watching her carefully to ensure she was actually awake this time.

She gulped audibly, breathing heavily while he watched her chest rise and fall rapidly. The minute he realised where he was staring, he looked away and dropped his hands from her shoulder as if scorched by her touch. Picking up the wand, he left the bed in a rush.

....

Hermione, still struggling to breathe, saw him look around as if searching for someone and then step towards the door and lean out partially.

"Hey, mate! You there?"

"Yup!" came an instant reply. "Wards keeping me out for some reason."

"Great!" remarked Ron sarcastically.

"Could you arrange for the little guy to get some more candles and a goblet of water up here?" he asked aloud.

"Sure," replied the same voice and was followed by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

Hermione watched him turn around. Almost instantly half a dozen candles appeared on candle brackets that were invisible till a while ago. These way much lower on the wall and showered the room in much-needed light. A pitcher and a goblet appeared on the side table as well.

Ron moved to the table after he tucked his wand deep inside his pocket and picked up a vial he had left before. He showed her the label and the intact seal before uncapping it before setting it aside. Pouring out a goblet of water and with her still watching him, he poured a few drops of the potion into it. Corking the vial and placing it back, he came around and handed the goblet to her, careful not to touch her.

She took in the goblet wordlessly, noticing the many fresh scratches on his face and hands. Lowering her eyes, she took a sip first and then drank deeply, feeling the potion work it's magic instantly. Placing the empty goblet aside she turned at the tall figure who stood a little distance away with his arms folded at his chest.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, and Hermione was surprised to notice that he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You might want to take the other potion as well. Will give you better sleep," he suggested in a flat voice this time.

She nodded slightly and picking up the other phial, opened the cork and swallowed a mouthful. She noticed he was still watching her. The effect of the two potions was almost instantaneous. She had begun to feel cosy and pleasantly drowsy.

He watched her adjusting herself back on the bed and was almost at the door when she called.

"Will you stay here for the night?"

Hermione had no clue why she said that, and she was sure the shock that reflected in his eyes would be mirrored in her own. She wanted to say it didn't matter, wanted to say he could leave but she was feeling very sleepy, and somehow, for reasons unknown, she felt safer with him around. Just before she closed her eyes, she saw him pull out the chair and stretch his long legs on the low stool.

.....

She was sleeping peacefully now, curled up on her side when Ron tiptoed out and the door closed behind him. Making his way to their bedroom he found a drowsy Harry waiting for him.

"What happened?" croaked the bespectacled boy.

"Nightmares," he replied scratching his face unconsciously before he winced out loud.

The sound seemed to wake up Harry a little more and he squinted.

"Are those scratches? Blimey, Ron! What the hell happened?" he asked.

"She thought I was attacking her. I gave her the potions, she is sleeping now."

"Okay, but what about those?" Harry asked again indicating Ron's face.

"Nothing. I don't suppose we have anything stocked here. We both can't do magic without bringing the Ministry to our doorstep. Kreacher will probably take the chance and injure me further. So I guess we leave it for tonight. Mum will sort it out in the morning."

Harry looked at Ron curiously. For all the hatred he bore towards their new guest, Ron had not wasted a second to go to her aid. Maybe that was what Dumbledore saw in him, the selflessness and the dedication to do the right thing no matter what.

"Should we go back to sleep then?" he inquired and was even more surprised when Ron turned to walk out again.

"You do that. I'll keep watch," he said and walked back upstairs leaving a shocked Harry behind wondering where this new assignment of Ron's would lead them to.

...

Hermione woke up as the effect of the potion faded. In the few minutes between opening her eyes and remembering her surroundings, she felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"You're up," came a deep voice from somewhere close by, and she scrambled to cover her exposed calf by pulling the gown down. Weasley looked tired like he hadn't slept all night. Lifting his tall form up, he walked to the window and pulled the drapes away. Sunlight streamed in flooding the room with its dazzling light that shone off his bright hair. She almost exclaimed aloud as she saw the scratches that marked his face, visible despite the faint copper stubble that had appeared overnight.

He didn't bother to say anything as he made his way to the door before he stopped and turned.

"Wash up, we've got some clothes for you to change into, and I'll see if I can get your breakfast up here without me having to come back and invade your privacy." His voice was throaty with the lack of sleep and it was evident he wanted to get out as soon as he could.

"You hate me, don't you, Weasley?" she asked although it was more of a declaration of what they both knew was the truth. "And yet you stayed," she mused aloud. He was like a puzzle she couldn't figure out and it bothered her.

"Yes, I hate you, Granger, and you know perfectly well that you have given reasons plenty to do so." He exhaled, shoved his hands inside his pocket and looked away. "I stayed only because watching over you is a part of my assignment. I have to fulfil my duty irrespective of my personal feelings." When he looked back, she noticed the ice in his words mirror in his eyes.

With that he left, shutting the door roughly behind him.


	5. A Hole in the Heart

* * *

  
  
The door of the kitchen was pushed open roughly and Ron scrambled into the room and pulled out a chair for himself. Harry watched him curiously as Ron plopped down on the chair while scratching his slightly stubbled cheeks.

"You look bloody awful, mate!" he exclaimed once he got a closer look.

"Thanks," replied Ron dryly as he stifled a yawn and stretched his shoulders while massaging his neck.

Harry placed his tea on the table silently asking Ron if he wanted a cup to which Ron shook his head in negative. "So, you actually stayed up all night?" he probed, unable to disguise his surprise and snicker.

Ron yawned loudly and sniffed. "Well, I thought it best to stay awake," he replied, voice slurred, "Merlin knew she'd have attempted to nick my wand again if I dozed off, wouldn't she?" As Harry spluttered, spilling the hot beverage on his fresh shirt, Ron looked up and gave him a weak grin. There was one thing not getting along with a Slytherin, but this sounded rather barmy. "This time around she'd have finished me off for sure," Ron added while he folded his arms on the table before resting his head on them.

"She tried to nick your wand?!" Harry managed after he had wiped most of the tea off his shirt. He needed to change but he needed those answers first. "When did that happen?"

"Yeah, yesterday when I carried her supper up to her room. That one has got a crazy way to show her gratitude," Ron provided, his voice slurring with sleep as he struggled to keep his eyes open and yawned again.

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?" Harry suggested, sipping from his cup which now contained only half the beverage he had poured. "I asked Kreacher to fix up a couple of beds, the ones we used last time," he added as Ron grunted a reply, his eyes already closed.

The familiar, careful opening of the heavy main door sounded outside, and it was only a short while before Mrs Weasley appeared carrying, what Harry hoped, was some stock for the empty pantry. She took in Ron's sleeping form on the table curiously and had almost turned away before she did a double-take and looked up at Harry, bewildered. "What happened to his face?!" she asked, and Harry hoped she wasn't really imagining the worst from Ron.

"Granger woke us up in the middle of the night with her screams. Apparently, she was having nightmares," he explained rather hurriedly. "When Ron tried waking her up, she assumed he was attacking her. And..." he gestured at his friend's scratched face and hands.

Molly's eyes softened immediately. "Oh, my poor boy!" she exclaimed, and dropping the parcels on the table, took out her wand and healed him in a flash. She lovingly ruffled his hair and tutted softly before making her way to the kitchen to get their breakfast ready. "I've got a few of Ginny's dresses and a few other things she'll need," she announced, indicating the bag she had brought along.

"Tonks got some stuff last night too," Harry informed her as he pointed out the bag that was still lying on one of the chairs.

Mrs Weasley nodded in acknowledgement before busing herself with the food. Soon the room began to smell just like the Weasley kitchen. "Why is Ron sleeping now?" she asked while ladling out bowls of porridge for them.

"Erm...He stayed up most of the night keeping watch over her- after her nightmares, I mean," Harry furnished, feeling a little warm around the cheeks. It was a bloody insane situation to be in. Molly did not comment to that but Harry did catch her looking at her son adorably while she buttered their toasts for them.

Pretty soon, three food-laden trays floated to the table. A couple of them settled in front of the boys while the third landed delicately at the centre. Harry picked up his spoon immediately but then dropped it back and moved over to where his best mate sat, snoring softly now. "Ron!" he called, shaking him on the arm.

"Hmph?" Ron grunted, without opening his eyes.

"Breakfast, Ron!" he announced, knowing well that those two words would do the trick.

And surely enough, Ron forced his eyes open and pushing himself up, pulled the tray closer and looked around. Noticing his mother, he gave her a goofy smile. "Thanks, Mum," he muttered groggily as he bit into his toast.

"Once you finish eating, Ron, take this tray upstairs for her. And then you can go to your room and sleep."

"Tell Kreacher to send them upstairs as he did with the pitcher and goblet last night," Ron replied grumpily. "What am I, her personal house-elf?" he added annoyed as he pulled the bowl and dug in.

"Ron Weasley! You will take this upstairs. It is absolutely bad manners to send food that way!" admonished the elderly witch, and Harry noticed Ron attacking his porridge as if it had done him physical harm. Harry wasn't sure if Molly noticed her son because she had already busied herself with the next task. Pulling out a floral summer dress from a bag, she held it up at the shoulder straps. "I wonder if Ginny's stuff will fit her?" she pondered aloud as she turned at Harry for confirmation. Utterly confused, Harry looked up from his plate, glanced at Molly and then the dress and back at her. _How on earth was he supposed to know?!_

"She is a couple of inches shorter than Gin, Mum, and slightly thinner."

Harry had to literally bite back his comment as he almost choked on his porridge. For someone who claimed to hate the sight of Granger, Ron seemed pretty well-informed. He tried catching Ron's eyes; it was way too much of an effort to keep the teasing on hold till they were alone.

"Oh, okay then!" said Molly seriously as she pulled out the clothes from both the bags and altered them accordingly before repacking everything. With a flick, they disappeared and Harry knew where they would have appeared.

...

Fifteen minutes later, Ron was once again outside the door on the third floor, a look of deep loathing etched in his features. It was not even one whole day of this so called 'assignment' and he was already fed up and wanted out. He knocked a couple of times and without bothering for a response, turning the knob and entered. There were clothes all over her bed. He recognised one deep blue shirt that was Ginny's and turned around to face an extremely annoyed someone standing with her arms folded at her chest.

"These are old clothes," she said with contempt.

"Sorry?" he asked, completely baffled.

"You should be! I can't wear these! They are old and tasteless and some of them are even _muggle_ clothes!" she responded with disgust.

He stared at her for a while before he burst out laughing. Hermione continued to watch him indignantly, her eyes in slits. "What on earth were you expecting?" he managed finally, "D _resses from Paris?"_ he asked incredulously.

"I want new clothes, at least from Gladrags Wizardwear if not someplace better," she replied snobbishly.

Ron stared at her, at a loss of works. She ought to be fucking insane. Blowing out through his mouth he walked over and he dropped the food-laden tray a little too loudly on the study table before turning around to face her. "Look, Granger-" he hissed with all the patience he could muster. "-these clothes belong to people who have the heart to share their own with someone who doesn't have anything right now. You're forgetting, _everything_ you owned was lost in the fire," he stated slowly, fighting the urge to yell at her absurdity. "Your galleons are all locked in Gringotts and your vaults sealed. You are in no position to throw tantrums here," he finished, gritting his teeth.

She flinched at his words but did not lose the haughty look in her eyes. "I. won't. wear. hand- me- downs," she sneered glaring in contempt at the articles on the bed.

Ron balled his fists and took a few deep breaths, before running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Dumbledore must hate his guts, he reckoned. There was no other reason for him to have landed up this 'job'.

"Fine. Do as you wish," he spat gritting his teeth. "I'll send these back. You can wear your one single gown for as long as we are stuck in this mess, yeah?" he announced. "Roam around naked while it goes for a wash, for all I care! And then, when it turns into tatters, you can give me a fantastic display of your assets," he added frustratedly and watched as her pale cheeks turn pink- in embarrassment or anger he wasn't sure. Perhaps both. As she continued to glare at him, he tried shoving off the image of a naked Hermione moving around in the room, and was disgusted to find that it was making his body react in ways he didn't want it to. Luckily for him, she turned away sharply and walked over to the window.

"Leave," she hissed.

"With pleasure," he sneered and walked out of the door, banging it shut behind him.

...

Ron punched the pillow hard in his attempt to make it a little more comfortable, knowing completely well that it wasn't the fault of the bed or any other innate article in his vicinity that he was still struggling to fall asleep, even after an hour of coming back from her room. But the truth was, that one simple sentence from his mouth had opened a floodgate of other emotions that were simmering inside him anyway, emotions he had been struggling to keep under the wraps for weeks now. He knew Harry had already noticed, and yet, this was one thing he couldn't share with his best mate. All of last year, he had craved to confide in Harry. But that was all in the past. It no longer mattered and he reckoned it was better to keep those bitter memories all to himself anyway. He rolled over again, perhaps for a hundredth time in the past hour, still uncomfortable.

_How could he still be attracted to the one person he loathed beyond all?! Why could he not get over the frustrating feelings even after all that she had done to him- after everything she had said?!_

He turned on his back, and for the millionth time perhaps, found himself thinking about how it had all began.

* * *

_Fifth Year, beginning of October._

"It's easy," Luna had suggested in that casual way of hers. "We can suggest pairing each prefect with someone from a different house for the night patrols for the whole year. That way we can keep Slytherin Prefects, Malfoy and Granger, away from our path and we can sneak into the Room of Requirements easily."

It did seem rather logical at the time. Getting it done through the Head Boy had been easy as well; after all, at that time, nothing was more important than hiding the whole secret training bit from Umbridge.

Ron had been paired with Granger, for even a cribbing Parvati had accepted that pairing Ron and Malfoy together would be equivalent to feeding a firecracker to a Blast-Ended Skewt.

Looking back, he wondered why he never had an inkling of what was to come despite knowing who she was. He hated to admit that it did not seem so bad at the time.

Yes, he found her annoying. She was such a know-it-all, and her arrogance and snobbish attitude were enough to irk him from miles away. And yet, he couldn't resist the charm during those silent nights when they walked down side by side through the dark corridors. He assumed it was because unlike the classes, where she talked incessantly, answering all questions and probing the teachers for more notes, here, she hardly spoke. He certainly wasn't complaining. After a few weeks of silent patrolling, he realised that he liked her silent form better. Heck, without the contempt with which she graced the others during the day, her face looked rather pretty, almost beautiful. Her hair was insane and yet somehow extremely gorgeous.

He often wondered if it was the moonlight, filtering in through the high windows in the hallway and casting a soft light on her delicate features, that made her look so breathtaking. Or was it the way her soft curls fell on her face? Or perhaps the way she tucked them behind her ears with those delicate fingers? Maybe it was those rare occasions when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes or even that perfume she used... He didn't quite know. It took a couple of months for Ron to realise that he was done for. Of all the girls in Hogwarts, he, Ron Weasley, was falling for a snobbish Slytherin. He kept telling himself that it was all futile and he was being an absolute dork. But he still couldn't resist the pull. There was something about her he couldn't explain. He wanted to tell Harry but between the DA meetings and all the nightmares, there was never a good moment. And then, there was also the fact that she was a Slytherin. _How could he ever explain that?!_ Forced by his stupid heart, he started frequenting the library. Everyone assumed he was preparing for his O. W. Ls. But he knew what it was. It was the only time when he could watch her in her element, surrounded by books, making notes and looking absolutely in love with what she was doing. He noticed how she had a habit of licking her lower lip while she read those enormous volumes which he was sure no one else in school bothered to touch. He loved how her face would lit up as she chatted animatedly with her best friend, Daphne. And then there were those glorious moments when she'd bite her lower lip and released it slowly. He literally craved to walk up to her, throw away the book from her hands and pull her in his arms and snog her senseless. He dreamt of softly biting those lips himself. He imagined tangling his fingers in those soft curls and burying his face in her nape, drowning in the scent that was her. He frequently dreamt of unbuttoning the high neck robes she wore to see the soft, creamy skin that she hid from view and trace it with his lips... But despite all his fanciful dreams, that both kept him awake at nights and haunted his sleeping hours, he was nowhere close to even picking up a casual conversation with her.

It happened after the Christmas Holidays, after the time his father was attacked in the Department of Mysteries. They had to leave a week earlier than the date on which the holidays officially began.

"You left early before Christmas," she said the first time he saw her on the patrols after his return. He wondered when she had begun to start sounding sweet rather than annoying.

"Yeah, some family stuff..." he replied hoping that the loud thudding of his heart was not audible outside his body.

"Oh..." she responded softly, those mesmerising eyes meeting his in concern. "All okay I hope?"

"Yeah...yeah," he responded, cursing his brain for wiping away his entire vocabulary except for that one word.

"I missed you... I mean during the patrols," she said in the softest of whispers, and he did all he could to stop himself from pushing her back against the stone walls and snogging her senseless.

"Oh..." he said instead and felt his ears turn red, glad that the partial darkness was at least hiding his burning face.

She turned and looked up at him again, and in the moonlight that chose to light up her face at that precise moment, he saw her smile at him before she blushed and looked away and Ron knew he was lost. He had officially lost his heart to Hermione Granger.

There were very few words, he could never pull up the courage to talk. And yet, as they walked side by side, sometimes he'd graze his fingers with his and slowly pulled that small hand in his own. It never failed to fill his heart with warmth. They spoke a few sentences when they met but mostly patrolled together in silence. And yes, there were many stolen glances, times when he sat at a different table from hers at the library but in her line of sight. And on the rare occasions when they both were alone at their tables, he would look at her long enough for her to notice him before she turned away, biting back a smile, her face flushed. There were times when the brown eyes met the blue, and even in those few stolen minutes, they held a promise, a promise of something beautiful in the future.

_How could he have been so foolish..._

It happened a couple of days before their O. W. Ls began. He had gone to the library to wish her luck, and after an enormous amount of mental preparation, had convinced himself to confess. There was no point hiding it anymore. Yes, he fancied her. He was bloody insane about her. Noticing her absence, he hung around in the aisle behind the desk she usually occupied. It wasn't long before two soft voices were heard on the other side of the shelf. He knew those voices well. He waited for Daphne to leave as he paced, picking up random books just to appear occupied, his ears trained on the conversation.

"He isn't here today," he heard Daphne speak, and instantly knew who she was referring to. He grinned to himself, scratching the back of his neck. Well, they did speak about him after all.

"Good," Hermione replied, and Ron's grin faltered at her tone.

"So how is the drama going on?" asked Daphne again, and Ron inched closer, his heart twisting fearfully.

"It's rather annoying having to make coy faces at him, while all I want to do is puke, Daph." He stood stunned, trying to convince himself that maybe they were not talking about him at all. But her next sentence shattered that hope once and for all. "I'm going to murder Draco," Hermione continued. "I told him it was a stupid idea! How on earth can me flirting with Weasley help find out what Potter is up to?"

"So, it isn't working?"

"Well, he is charmed alright. But I haven't found anything, have I? He hardly talks!"

"Why don't you ask him directly?"

"Well he might be dumb, but he isn't that big a fool. I was hoping I'd have earned his trust by now and maybe he'd begin to tell me what those Gryffindors are up to. But no," she sighed dramatically. "Seems my flirting skills are way better than my spying skills, Daph."

There was a sound of girlish laughter as he stood rooted to his spot. It was all a game, a very well planned one and he had fallen straight into the trap.

"So you'll carry the plan into next year?"

"Oh no!" Hermione gasped. "What if he becomes all bold during the summer and decides to snog me?" she replied, disgust evident in her words. "Do you know how many times I have to wash my hands after we _accidentally_ brush hands? Mother says all kinds of diseases grow in filth. No way am I doing that!"

"But you have to give it to Draco for his observation skills, Herms. Only he saw Weasley eying you for weeks before Christmas." There was a snicker from both the girls before Daphne spoke again. "But at least Weasley looks good; you've got to give him that."

"Good looks don't substitute for empty pockets, Daphs. Imagine the horror if the school knew what I am doing! Imagine if our names were said together, I would die of shame and disgust."

"I am surprised Draco kept his promise, you know? I mean he didn't disclose it. I was sure he'd announce it just to watch Potter's reaction to the news, and the rest of the Gryffindor's for that matter," said Daphne.

"Well, he had to, didn't he?" Hermione went on, emotionlessly. "That was my main clause. Draco can keep his Potter craze to himself but I am not jeopardizing my family name by associating with a Weasley. I'd have still understood if he wanted me to flirt with Potter, you know? But no! He wanted it to be Weasley to avoid suspicion! Draco is an idiot. I mean, what would Weasley even be if he had not managed to make friends with Potter the first day on the train? Who would ever know him?"

"Come on, Herms, he is brave."

"Please, Daphs! Getting into trouble is no bravery. He just does it so that Potter doesn't drop him for someone else as the best mate."

Ron could not hear any more. He could feel the hurt burn his very being. And yet, who could he blame? They were still talking but he didn't need to know anything else. He had heard enough. He kept hiding till Greengrass went away. But he wanted Hermione Granger to know that she was caught, wanted to see if there was any trace of guilt in those eyes. It took a while before he heard the other girl leave, and he took a few more minutes to draw in a deep breath, and then walked out of the darkness to where she sat. Her face lit up for a moment as their eyes met. But he continued to look at her expressionlessly, noticing for the first time how fake she really was. There was a look of confusion in her eyes when he did not smile back, and then those beautiful lips curled into a cruel smile as the realisation hit her. She shrugged and shook her head mockingly as if laughing at his foolishness before returning back to her book.

"Why would you do this to me?" he asked in an oddly calm voice that did not sound like him at all.

"Well, first of all, it wasn't hard," she shrugged, "And you can call it revenge, Weasley," she added. "Remember our first year when Slytherin almost got the house cup? I had scored the maximum points earned by a single student in a century that year, you know? But that was before you got grace marks for your silly little adventures and spoiled my moment. Consider this a little payback." she snorted.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her but he said nothing at all. He left soon after, hoping and praying that he would never have to see her face again in his life.

That fateful night, lying on his bed in the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower, Ron knew he would never hate anyone more than he hated Hermione Granger.


	6. Something Different

* * *

  
The next time he saw her, she was once again standing near the window, watching the muggles walking by in the street below.

There was the smallest movement indicating that she had heard him enter but she refrained from turning around to face him. "Can they see me?" she asked quietly and Ron placed her lunch tray on the table before replying.

"No."

"Oh..." she responded. Ron could only see her profile but he could make out how she watched the life beyond her prison with a mixture of amused longing.

She had changed into the provided clothes after all and was wearing a red knee-length dress. Her hair reached her waist in thick curls and was set free, the not too gentle breeze from the window played with it. The small sleeves and short length of her dress showed way more skin than her high-necked school robes ever did. Granger turned slightly to lean on the windowsill on the left, and he couldn't help watch her. The dress clung to her body, clearly marking the swell of her breasts and then tapering at her small waist only to flare open again before ending just at her knees. Then her hand went up to her hair in that painfully familiar gesture and Ron turned around abruptly to look away. He had almost reached the door when she spoke again.

"What happens to me when you leave for school, Weasley?" her voice was laced heavily with hopeless melancholy.

He closed his eyes momentarily, taking in a deep breath and curbing the urge to leave at the earliest. Civil conversations were not quite their strong point. "Sit," he replied. This _job_ if his _,_ although rather insignificant in nature, was mentally exhausting. He had not expected her to obey but she seemed to be curious enough. Turning around, she quietly moved ahead and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped together on her lap. Ron remained standing, though, leaning heavily against the wall, just next to the door, his arms folded at his chest.

"You won't have to miss school," he said and watched her eyes lit up. He looked away hurriedly to watch the sky through the window instead. "You won't be able to attend classes personally because you need to be kept hidden. However, you will still be at Hogwarts-" he paused briefly, "-in a secret chamber. The professors will know, and you'll not miss out on your education. Don't ask me the details, I'm not aware either. But I've heard it's getting sorted."

He barely saw her smile as he turned around, eager to leave. Just when he had reached out for the doorknob she spoke once more.

"I am bored," she announced this time, and even without turning back, he could visualise her pout.

"So?" he inquired, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

"You can't keep me locked in here without my wand and my books! I have no company at all! What am I supposed to do all day?" she asked like a moody child.

He gritted his teeth and turned around to face her again. She didn't quite seem to understand the gravity of the situation or what risk she was under. "Cherish the fact that you are alive and safe, perhaps?" he spat sarcastically and stared at her coldly. Her eyes had pooled over. Back in the day, he'd have done all in his power to make her happy, now he only saw a great actress at work.

"I miss my family, Weasley. I... I feel very lonely. Can't you even get me something to help me keep my mind off of my parents?" she beseeched, rubbing her palms before wrapping her arms around herself.

He doubted that the true reason for her anguish was having to plead to him for help. It, quite obviously, was damaging her pride beyond repair. Knowing that it was nothing but an act, he continued to stare at her sceptically, allowing himself the satisfaction of seeing her cringe with the way he watched her. Perhaps in her mind, he was soiling her just by looking at her high and pure form, he thought bitterly. But his mask was up. Nothing in his features gave out what he thought of her request and he could she was getting restless. Then, without any kind of reply, he turned around and left.

...

Ron came down to the kitchen to find Tonks stocking up a small Potions cabinet while describing the different vials to Harry.

"Hey, Ron! How's it going?" she asked cheerfully.

He frowned in response. "It's fucking amazing, Tonks. We're stuck indoors during our summer holidays, babysitting a spoilt rich Slytherin. I couldn't have asked for more, could I?"

"He is still not taking it well, is he?" she asked Harry and Ron was annoyed to find Harry shake his head and snicker.

"Nope."

Ron was on the verge of coming back with an apt reply when the door to the kitchen opened again, Dumbledore walked in, followed by Lupin.

"Aah, Mr Weasley!" beamed the old man. "How's Miss Granger?"

Ron had a hundred different words he could use but kept his thoughts to himself. "She is bored and needs books now," he replied in a flat voice.

"Well, I can help with that!" responded the Headmaster and waved his wand, but nothing happened in that room at least. For a moment there, it seemed as if there was a mysterious glint of something in the old man's eyes but Dumbledore had gone back to conversing softly with Lupin and Ron wasn't so sure. He turned to face Harry instead. "At least I don't have to carry a trunk full of books upstairs for Her Highness," he grumbled before pulling out a butterbeer for himself.

It had been only ten minutes or so that Ron and Harry had taken up their places opposite an old chessboard while the senior members still sat discussing Order matters when loud screams were heard from upstairs.

All pair of eyes turned towards him.

"I hate that woman!" he swore, and throwing away his queen's side castle roughly on the board, rushed out in a huff, taking two stairs at a time to reach the third floor.

"WHAT NOW?" he yelled as he barged into the room.

Hermione Granger was standing in front of the desk that now had four racks of books. One large volume, however, was lying on the floor at her feet. She turned around at his voice to show her hands; the palms of both displayed angry red boils. "What is this?" she cried accusingly as angry tears rolled down her face.

"I don't know!" he replied honestly looking between the fallen book and her hands, very confused himself.

"Of course you do!" she spat. "Look what it did to my hands!" she sobbed.

Ron stood there in confusion unable to fathom why the headmaster would send her a cursed article.

"Go ahead! Pick it up for yourself and see. Let's see how brave you are." she challenged while gritting her teeth in pain.

He looked at her with furrowed brows as anger flared at her insinuation. Bending down, he picked it up without so much as a twitch. Staring at her hard, he dropped it on the desk with a loud thud.

"B-but it burned me!" she cried in surprise, staring bewildered at the book and then, his unscathed form.

He scoffed at her and flipped the cover open, very surprised to find nothing but the blank pages before he realised she was screaming again.

"Now m-my eyes are b- burning too!" she wailed. "Don't just stand there! Do something!"

Grasping the seriousness of the situation, Ron closed the book shut urgently and ran downstairs as fast as his legs would carry, hoping the old man had not left yet.

"Sir! A blank book burned her hands and eyes!" he gasped, panting as soon as he found their elderly professor.

"Ah... that could happen," replied Dumbledore sadly before he flicked his wand and a long glass bottle of gooey black liquid emerged in front of them on the table. "Miss Granger needs to apply this on her eyelids and hands," he said, handing over the bottle to Ron.

He took it, thanked the teacher, and had almost turned away before he remembered something else. "Pardon me, Sir, but I touched it too and nothing happened to my hands. All I could see were blank pages but her eyes started to burn," he asked confused.

"That is because you are worthy enough to read the information that is held in that book, Mr Weasley. It appears blank as it's not yet the time for the book to reveal it's secrets to you," he explained patiently but cryptically. "Miss Granger, I am afraid, is yet to prove her worth in that area. So she can neither touch nor see it without causing herself physical harm," he added

Ron and Harry share a confused look between them.

"Now you must run along, my boy. I am afraid the boils are not really very nice," Dumbledore urged and Ron left quickly with a small nod of his head in thanks.

...

"Here, apply this on the burns," he said urgently as he re-entered her room. Hermione was whimpering softly as she sat on the bed, her eyes shut tight. Ron noticed how even the back of her palms showed the boils. He assumed she might have tried rubbing them over her eyes.

"Can I see, you idiot? Help me out!" she spat in between whimpers and Ron almost had the urge to throw the potion bottle away and leave her to fend for herself. It took him a lot of willpower to ignore her snarky reply and approach her. He took a few drops of the salve between his fingers and rubbed them over her eyelids. She lifted up her chin, as he ensured to cover the corner of her eyes as well, sighing in relief. A few seconds later she opened her eyes to meet his. Ron glared at her with annoyance hoping she'd show at least a tiny sign of gratitude.

"Hands now!" she ordered instead. He clenched his jaws and applied the ointment on both her hands, rubbing them with his coarse fingertips as she moved uncomfortably at his touch. The boils disappeared immediately and she sighed again in relief, turning her hands back and forth to admire the unblemished skin. "That was horrid! What was it?" she asked casually, but without even a slight hint of gratitude.

"A curse on the book," he replied flatly. "You've got to be worthy enough to touch it," he provided corking the bottle back, not bothering to look at her any longer.

"WHAT?" she spat incredulously, evidently quite offended at his response, "So _you_ are 'worthy' enough and _I_ am not?!"

"Yeah, so it seems," he replied with a smirk himself.

"Surely the standards to measure worthiness is pretty low, I must say," she scorned before lifting her chin up in a proud way and moving ahead a few paces. "I'd rather get those burns than stoop to your level of filth anyway," she hissed, turning back slightly to watch him.

He stared at the ungrateful girl, breathing heavily to control the rage that came flooding back as he remembered everything he had heard her say in the library weeks ago. He had a terrible urge to lift the book straight up and shove it back into her hands. But then, he remembered what she had said.

_'What if he becomes all bold during the summer and decides to snog me? Do you know how many times I have to wash my hands after we accidentally brush hands? Mother says all kinds of diseases grow in filth. No way am I doing that!"_

With fury almost rendering him blind, Ron shoved the bottle deep inside his pocket, and even before she noticed, his much taller form was right next to her.

"W-What are y-you doing?" she asked panic-stricken, all haughtiness from moments ago wiped off that pretty face as she backtracked.

"Showing you what 'filth' actually feels like, Granger," he replied, nothing but anger and hurt guiding him. He grabbed hold of her upper arms and shoved her back against the wall, not very gently either. Some primitive part of his brain cheered as he pressed his body to hers, holding her in place while his fingers cupped her face. He angled her face up and cutting off any protest from her, captured her lips roughly with his. His heart hammered away in his chest as he closed his eyes at her touch. He vaguely registered her squirming against him but he could neither stop nor think. He deepened the kiss as she let out a gasp. _Kiss... could they even call this a kiss?_ He felt her soft curves blend against his, and all the dreams he had once had surfaced along with all the hurt she had caused. He poured the hurt back by intensifying his assault. Shuddering a little, he bit down on her lip, just about holding back from actually hurting her, and quickly ran his tongue over the bite. He heard a small gasp and sucked hard, vaguely realising that at this rate, she'd probably be left with a bruising. Hermione was still wrapped in his embrace and as the anger slowly ebbed the pain resurfaced and Ron found himself slowing down, kissing her as he had always hoped to. She was flushed against him and he wasn't sure when she had stopped struggling.

With the fingers of his left hand still entangled in the soft curls at her nape, he dropped his mouth to her jawline and then the spot just below her ear peppering kisses. Her familiar fragrance was still intoxicating as ever. But this wasn't love- it was revenge. Blind with the hurt that he had hidden from all, he placed a finger on her shoulder, touching that soft skin of hers, before tracing it down against the neck of the dress. He stopped where the neckline dipped into a V and felt her shudder and draw in a sharp breath, her eyes closed shut, faced flushed. Ron placed his mouth close to her ears and her small frame shuddered against him.

"Say _thank you_ , Hermione," he whispered, his breath coming out in gasps. "Otherwise, I swear this mouth of mine will reach places from where you won't be able to wash my _filth_ off." He could feel her tremble at his words, and it was a while before she muttered a soft, stammering thanks.

No sooner had she uttered the words, Ron pushed himself off her. She stood rooted on the spot, shaking a little, eyes firmly shut. Hermione looked thoroughly snogged- a small dark mark was visible on the corner of her mouth.

"Disgusted aren't you? _This_ is how my filth feels like," he spat before he turned around and left the room, banging the door shut behind him.

It was only once the door had closed behind him that he could see clearly and the guilt actually hit him.

_What the fuck had he done?!_

_..._

As the door to her room banged shut, Hermione slowly slumped to the ground realising with mounting horror that she had never seen this side of Ron's nature before. He had always seemed so casual, someone who could be easily toyed around with before being cast aside without a second thought. This new side of him was unpredictable and intriguing in equal measure- she didn't understand him at all...and yet... she placed her finger on her lip...

_How on earth did his touch leave her so aroused?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it might seem like there is a consent issue in this chapter, I promise that is not the case. The next one and the story itself will let you know. My readers who have read this before can vouch for me. Thank you for reading. I appreciate the reviews you send my way!


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